


Breaking the Rules

by everytimeyougo



Category: The Good Fight (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 04:58:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11547954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everytimeyougo/pseuds/everytimeyougo
Summary: The room is so quiet he can hear his watch counting off the seconds. It’s twenty ticks before he moves again, slotting another button closed.





	Breaking the Rules

She isn’t really asleep.

He stands at the end of the bed, buttoning his shirt, and watches her pretend, another piece of his fractured heart dying with every too-shallow breath she takes.

What would she do, he wonders, if he broke the rules? If he lay back down beside her and wrapped his arm around her waist like he used to do in better times? Would she sigh and burrow closer against him? Or would she pull away and ask him what the hell he thinks he’s doing?

The room is so quiet he can hear his watch counting off the seconds. It’s twenty ticks before he moves again, slotting another button closed.

It’s too big a risk. She might take from him even this ghost of a relationship that is all that remains of their marriage. He couldn’t bear that. He’ll play by her rules. His own actions have left him with no other choice.

***

More than a year post-retirement and he still gets up at five-thirty every morning. Sleeping too late gives him a headache. Staying in bed for too long makes his joints ache like the old man he is. He’s out the door for his morning walk by six, rain or shine. Back home an hour later, and coffee and the newspapers keeps him busy until at least eight, maybe nine depending on what’s going on in the world. These last few months, it’s been nine more often than not.

Then a shower, grooming, dressing, cleaning up after himself as he goes. Maybe another cup of coffee.

This is his life now. Everything he needs to do in a day, finished before noon.

This isn’t how it was supposed to be.

***

Sometimes he meets her at her office, much as he had that first night when she helped him with his speech. It’s smaller, less imposing than her old digs, but she seems happier there than she had been at her old firm with all the constant backstabbing and power plays. He wonders, as he wonders about most things, how this new job would have affected their marriage, if they still had one.

There’s someone with her when he arrives. “Mr. Boseman,” the chatty assistant advises without him having to ask. “The boss.”

He nods, and lurks off to one side, trying to remain unobtrusive until the other man leaves. He’s laughing when he pushes through the door with Diane close behind him.

“Kurt,” she says, surprised, glancing at her watch. “Is it that time already?”

Boseman looks from him to Diane and back. “Adrian Boseman,” he says, holding out his hand.

Kurt takes it, shakes. He has a good firm grip, this guy. Strangely, that makes his stomach queasy. “Kurt McVeigh,” he says.

“My...husband,” Diane provides. The pause is barely perceptible. Barely.

***

They never talk about anything that matters. Not about her financial problems, or how her new job is going. Not about the Rindell case. And never about their marriage, where it’s going, where it’s been. What he did. Not ever. He tries once or twice, but she quickly changes the subject anytime he gets close.

The message is clear. If he wants this to continue, he needs to keep it impersonal.

So they talk about politics and current events, the state of the country, the rest of the world. Ironically they agree a lot more than they used to, but when they don’t it’s not the same. There’s too much bitterness now, on too many levels.

***

He can’t do this anymore. He feels like a raging asshole acknowledging it, even to himself, because he should be grateful for any crumbs of a relationship she deigns to allow him. He doesn’t deserve any better.

But he can’t. Following the unspoken rules she’s set forth for them is killing him slowly but surely. Every time he leaves her bed in the middle of the night while she pretends to sleep, the jagged wound in his heart gets bigger.

This is it. He’ll take one final shot at persuading her to ease back on her defenses and give him a chance to make things right. He can’t undo what’s done, but he can again be the man she married, if only she’ll let him.

If she’s willing, he’ll put everything he has into making their marriage work.

If she’s not, he has to walk away. Not only for him, but for her too. This limbo they’re living in is poisoning them both.

(Deep down he knows. He won’t ever do it.)

***

The chatty assistant answers her phone. This is normal. She’s too busy to take his call. This is also normal, but that doesn’t stop his gut from twisting in on itself. He had planned to ask her to dinner. Instead he leaves a message and proceeds with the rest of his day.

A section of fence is down along the edge of his property, a casualty of the weight of the winter’s snow. It’s close enough to spring now that he feels justified in fixing it. He’ll stop at the hardware store for supplies and then the grocery store for wine. Maybe Diane will call. Maybe she’ll consent to a glass of wine by the fire after dinner.

Maybe this time she’ll hear him out.

He parks the big old truck closer to the stores than is his custom, anticipating a heavy load to carry back. He’s almost to the entrance when he notices the commotion two rows over.

***

Too mired in disappointment, he doesn’t comprehend what’s happening at first when, instead of reversing slowly down his driveway, the engine of her car dies and the headlights wink out.

He’s sure he’s staring like a moron when she reappears at his side and it’s not until she reaches over takes his hand in hers that he finally gets it.

She’s staying.

He couldn’t have stopped the grin that spreads across his face if he tried which, of course, he doesn’t.

As they walk up to the house, he feels like he’s floating. He keeps looking to his left, not quite believing his own eyes. But she’s there. She’s really there. She catches him looking and squeezes his hand.

***

Later, while she sleeps, he wraps an arm around her waist. She sighs and burrows closer against him.

**Author's Note:**

> Clearly I started this before the finale when I was feeling rather pessimistic, lol


End file.
